


Something To Prove

by MoMoMomma



Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blow Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-21
Updated: 2017-05-21
Packaged: 2018-11-03 03:13:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10958463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoMoMomma/pseuds/MoMoMomma
Summary: If he’s only got this one damn shot, he’s gonna make it a good impression.





	Something To Prove

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Доказательство](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12405654) by [kkito](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kkito/pseuds/kkito)



> As a heads up, there's a portion in the beginning that describes an injection. Not super detailed, but if needles aren't your thing, feel free to skip down until after the .O. break between the two portions! I hope you enjoy!

Nothing has gone right. And Scott is, for once in his life, not exaggerating any of it. From the hellhole they landed on when they hit ground on Habitat 7, to the monsters who seemed intent to kill them rather than talk, to the change in plans,  _ nothing  _ in Andromeda has been kind.

His father is alive. But to save his life, Alec gave up SAM. Gave up Pathfinder status because what is a Pathfinder without a SAM link and without SAM, Scott isn’t going to survive. Whatever they did to make him survive, it linked him and SAM in ways no one understands. So Scott’s Pathfinder, his dad is a figurehead he can only hide behind on rare occasions, and his sister is still in a coma.

And he’s still in med bay with headaches more often than he’s out there exploring the stars.

Though if those stars are anything like ‘New Earth’, Scott’s not eager to do any exploring anytime soon.

“Look over here now,” Harry’s voice breaks his morose moping, dragging Scott’s attention back to the moment.

He obediently slides his gaze over, locking onto the finger Harry holds up, before wincing when it makes his temples pound with pain. Harry hums, setting his datapad down, and pulling a chair in close with his foot to settle into it. Careful, cool palms cup his face, fingers pressing delicately under his jaw, making Scott lean into them mindlessly. They’re a comfort when the world is too bright, too loud.

A comfort that’s soon removed as Harry sits back with a frustrated huff.

“You’re not showing concussions symptoms. No lymph node reactions. But consistent headaches like this aren’t just a sign, they’re a  _ symptom _ . And we’ve already cleared your SAM implant as a reason.”

“Sorry, Doc,” Scott whispers, the sound of his own voice ringing in his ears with stabbing pain. “Guess I gotta be trouble, even now.”

“I could use less trouble from you.” Harry’s words are soft as well, like he’s noticed Scott’s sensitivity. “I can give you an injection for the pain but it’s not a permanent solution to this seemingly constant problem.”

“I’ll take anything right now.” Scott closes his eyes, raising his hands to rub gingerly at his temples, hearing Harry rummage off to the side.

“We might want privacy for this.” Harry murmurs, “what room did you dump all your stuff in?”

“I’m not gonna burst into tears for one measly needle.”

“Maybe not,” Scott opens his eyes to blearily peek out when Harry snorts, a look of derision on his handsome face as he holds aloft a syringe. “But this needs to go directly into your  Dorsogluteal muscle. Far be it from me to keep the entire med bay from seeing the Pathfinder’s ass, though, if you’re insistent.”

“Ugh,” Scott grunts as he pushes himself to his feet, swaying in place until Harry hooks a steadying arm around his back. “You’re a pain.”

“And you’re  _ in  _ pain.” Harry counters, jiggling his arm slightly. “So don’t be afraid to lean on me. Where we heading?”

Scott takes his advice to heart as he rattles off how to get to his temporary Nexus room, practically letting Harry drag him out of med bay and down the corridor. No one bothers them as they go, probably partly due to the fact that Scott likely looks about as healthy as he feels, and they’re just striding towards his doors when Alec’s voice breaks through Scott’s haze.

“What’s wrong with you?”

It’s gravel over ice, just like it’s always been, but it grates against Scott’s sensitive nerves, making him whine and turn his face into Harry’s chest. He distantly hears Harry say something back, his voice miles more soothing by far, and there’s the barest brush of a palm against his shoulder before Harry is hurrying him towards his room.

“Was he mad?” Scott asks as they stumble into the blessed darkness of his room, pushing away from Harry to gingerly sit on the edge of the bed.

“He’s always mad,” Harry mutters, setting down the syringe on a nearby table and digging into his pockets. “But he seemed more worried than anything else. He cares about you, Scott. More people do than you think.”

“Do you?” Scott slurs, in far too much pain to keep his not-so-secret crush under wraps, more whine in his voice than he’d originally intended.

“Well, you’re my favorite human Pathfinder. How about that?” Harry says neutrally as Scott actually whines at him, a wordless, childish noise. “You pain. Yes, I care about you. Now pull your pants down and roll over.”

“Naughty doctor,” Scott can’t help but tease, even as he complies, burying his face into the cool blankets still bunched from where he’d thrown them off that morning. “You could at least say please.”

He thinks he hears something along the lines of a snort before there’s a cold scrub of something against the curve of his ass. Harry gives him warning in the mutter of “just a small sting” before Scott’s inhaling sharply at the sting of a needle.

The injection doesn’t actually hurt as much as the medication does and he whines, fists balling up in the covers as he tries to breathe through it. He lets his breath out in a whoosh when Harry pulls away, another cold swipe proceeding Harry patting his hip with a gentle hand.

“All done. Breathe for me.”

Scott complies, trying to right his clothes, wincing when the effort makes his head ache with sharp pulses alongside his breaths. He throws an arm out to the side when he hears Harry start to walk away, peering over his shoulder with effort, muscles refusing to keep his head up.

“Something wrong?” Harry asks, circling away from the trash can and back towards him, reaching past his hand to lay fingers against his forehead. “Are you having a reaction?”

“Can you...uhm...do you have time to…” Scott trails off, sinking teeth into his bottom lip as relief washes over him, dulling the pain from a screaming sharpness to a dull throbbing.

“The lack of eloquence is not really helping me think you’re doing okay, Scott.” Harry says, hand falling back, allowing Scott to grab it with numb fingers.

“Stay? I don’t wanna...be alone?”

Harry sighs, but his fingers link with Scott’s for a brief squeeze as he makes a show of looking at the clock on the wall. He hums under his breath, before letting go and chivvying Scott further up the bed, until his head sinks onto soft pillows.

“They won’t miss me too much. Most of it I can do from here anyhow. You just sleep, okay?”

Scott nods, body curling towards the heat of Harry’s body when he takes a seat on the side of the bed, eyes already slipping closed. He’s exhausted suddenly, body limp, but he still musters the strength to reach out and lay a hand on Harry’s thigh.

“Thank you,” he says, more emotion filling his voice than is appropriate for the short words, but Harry’s gaze is gentle when he pats Scott’s hand.

“No problem, honey. Just get some rest.”

 

.O.

 

“You called me honey.”

“Oh, good, we’re having this conversation.” Harry doesn’t seem all that agitated, more long-suffering than anything else as he glances up from the datapads strewn over his desk.

“You called me honey,” Scott repeats, letting the door shut behind him as he makes his across Harry’s office. “And you sat beside me while I slept.”

“I did the same things when you were a bratty teenager, if you remember.” Harry answers pointedly, linking his fingers and propping him chin on them. “Was there a point or is this reminiscing? Because if we’re bringing up the past, I remember a really good story about a kid with very red cheeks and a suspicious buzzing noise stumbling into my clinic after hours.”

Scott feels his cheeks heat at the memory of his first disastrous attempt at using toys, groaning and freezing to scrub his hands down his face. Harry’s laugh is loud in the room and Scott peeks out from behind his hands to glare, something that only serves to amuse the doctor further.

“You are not funny.”

“Oddly, I’ve thought the same about you.” Harry sets the data pad aside, tugging the thin framed glasses from his face as he does so. “Did you actually need something, Scott? Or were you just here to chat?”

“I want to know why.” He’s confidant on the outside, voice steady even as nerves make his stomach churn. “Why you called me that. You haven’t done it  _ since  _ I was a teenager. Why start now?”

Harry looks contemplative for a moment, leaning back in his chair, swiveling side to side. Scott takes the opportunity to sit himself in one of the chair in front of the desk, leaning forwards, ignoring the sweat forming at the back of his neck. Harry’s always been able to get the truth out of him, always been able to make him spill things he would’ve even tell his parents.

It’s high time the tables were turned. He’ll leave the room with answers to the questions that have lingered for days or he won’t leave at all.

“I don’t suppose you’d chalk it up to wistful reminiscence of a better time?”

“No dice,” Scott shakes his head, still watching Harry as the older man frowns, brows low in irritation. “C’mon, Dr. Carlyle. Tell me? It’s just you and me.”

It feels weird to call him by his title, after how long Scott’s spent thinking of him by his first name, tastes odd on his tongue. And Harry doesn’t seem pleased by it either, blowing out a frustrated breath as he leans forwards, forearms braced on the desk edge.

“Well, truth be told, it was just that. A bit of wistful thinking about how it was. When you weren’t Pathfinder and stumbling around without proper sleep or nutrition, getting debilitating headaches because a bad situation dropped a galaxy worth of responsibility on your shoulders.”

“Oh.” Scott sits back, something souring in his gut, swallowing back a flush of humiliation. “Oh. Okay then.”

He must go pale, something to let Harry know, because the older man stands suddenly, rounding the desk with a hurried mutter of his name. He grips the armrests, blinking back the itch of tears, willing himself not to make a bigger fool of himself than he already has. Of course. Of  _ course  _ he was projecting his fantasies. Someone like Harry...he’s not gonna harbor a secret crush like Scott has. Not for someone like him.

God _ damnit _ .

“Hey, hey,” Harry’s words are soft when his hand curves under Scott’s chin, “what’s going on? Scott, talk to me.”

“It’s nothing,” he resists the gentle pull on his jaw, keeping his head down, “really. I should...I should be going.”

“Yeah, that’s not happening.” Harry crouches down next to the chair, fingers gripping tighter until Scott doesn’t have a choice but to look over at him. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

Scott blows out a breath, white knuckling on the chair as he tries to form the words. This is going to end badly, no matter how kind Harry is about it. And he will be kind. There has always been a kindness under Harry’s words, whether he’s admonishing Scott for getting into back alley scraps or lecturing him on proper toy usage for his teenage exploration.

It doesn’t mean it will hurt any less or that the situation is any less mortifying.

“I thought maybe...I dunno...I thought it meant something more.”

Harry must understand, going by the way he lets go suddenly, fingers dropping from Scott’s jaw as he scrambles to explain. Harry’s face is carefully blank when Scott waves his hands in the air between them, like he can physically wave away the sudden tension in the air, cheeks burning hot once more.

“No, I mean, it’s fine! It was a stupid thought, I shouldn’t have said anything! I’m sorry, I--”

“It’s alright.” Harry pushes himself to hs feet quietly, sitting heavily in the empty chair next to Scott, linking his fingers between his knees and staring at them.

Scott watches him carefully, tempted to lay a hand on his shoulder, waiting with nearly bated breath. Because this...isn’t what he expected. It’s not a no, it’s certainly not a yes, but it’s not...not a no. It’s not a casual dismissal of his feelings, a brush off without care. Harry looks deep in thought and he’s quieter than Scott expected he might be.

“It wasn’t...totally wistful thinking. Or maybe it was, hell, I don’t know.” Harry sighs, leaning back to scrub his hands down his face, knuckles brushing the stubble growing in after a long day. “I won’t lie to you, Scott, you grew into a hell of a man. I’d be lying to both of us if I told you I wasn’t attracted and extremely tempted. But there’s about a thousand good reasons for us to keep the distance.”

“There might be a couple good reasons for us to...not do that.” Scott tries, only to flinch back when Harry shoots him a glare.

“Give me one good reason that’ll make it worth Alec kicking my ass into next century.”

“Well,” Scott draws the word out, calling up his omnitool to lock the door to the office. “It’s not really a reason I could...tell you. More like...show you.”

“Where in the hell did the almost bawling boy from a few seconds ago go?” Harry asks him incredulously, watching with careful eyes as Scott moves to kneel between his thighs.

It’s a question he’s asking himself as well, but he’s not examining the answer too closely. This is better than anything he could’ve ever hoped for. To have at least some of his feelings returned, even if they’re lust, is something straight out of his fantasies. This whole damn situation is like a dream come real--except he’s usually  _ under  _ Harry’s desk in his wet dreams, not in front of it. Confidence makes his hands steady when they reach for Harry’s zipper, easing it down, peeling open the pants as he leans forward.

If he’s only got this one damn shot, he’s gonna make it a good impression.

Harry groans when Scott mouths at his cock through the fabric of his briefs, wetting it with his spit and heated breaths, laving his tongue against the slowly stiffening flesh underneath. Careful hands slide into his hair and Scott can’t help but grin as he draws back to blow a cool breath over wet cotton, thumbs tucking under the elastic at the top.

This much he knows he’s good at. He’s had numerous compliments and he intends to use everything he’s got to impress.

“Can I take these down?” He asks with a wag of his eyebrows, throwing in a slow lick of his lips for good measure.

Harry doesn’t look impressed as he grunts out an affirmative, lifting his hips to let Scott peel the clothes away from his prize. He leaves them bunched around Harry’s knees, acutely aware there are still people on the Nexus whose override will open the locked door if they’re determined enough. Scott splays a hand on Harry’s inner thigh, wrapping the other one around the base of his thick cock, leaning forwards once more to lick a teasing line up the bottom.

“Damn,” Harry breathes, hands flexing against Scott’s scalp as he sucks gently on the plush head. “Do I even wanna know why you’re so good at this?”

“Probably not,” Scott murmurs, sucking hard once before sinking his mouth down until his lips meet the side of his hand.

Harry’s thigh flexes under his hand as he curses again, curling around Scott’s head, short nails scraping ever so gently. It’s a nice counterpoint, a good distraction from the way his cock is rock hard behind his own zipper, and Scott groans around the flesh in his mouth as he draws back. It’s easy to fall into a rhythm, though it’s been awhile since he’s had the opportunity to do this.

And Harry is admittedly a bit bigger than what he’s had in a  _ very  _ long time.

It’s why Scott keeps his hand around the base, pumping in time with his slick slurps and teasing flicks of his tongue. He’d choke if he tried to take it all and while that appeals, the first time might not be the best time for it. Harry’d pull him off in a heartbeat if he did, though he’s damn near doing that already with the tight grip he’s got on Scott’s hair.

“You seem stressed, Doc,” Scott drawls, pulling off to breathe, wrist working as he flicks his tongue over the pre-come seeping from the slit.

“Gee, I wonder why.” Harry snaps back, gaze heavy-lidded and hot when he looks down. “Too damn good with that mouth of yours, honey.”

The pet name makes him shiver, drop his free hand to cup over his own cock, palm grinding down to give him some much needed pressure. It doesn’t go unnoticed by Harry, whose eyes dart further down before refocusing on his.

“You weren’t kidding, huh?” He teases lightly as Scott flushes and takes his cock back inside his mouth, sucking hard as the best payback he can muster. “Ah-- _ ah _ ! Shit, Scott, alright, I get it. Testy little thing. Just glad to see I’ve still got the appeal.”

Scott groans around his cock, nodding as he dips his head, loosening his grip to tease Harry with the tight clutch of his throat for a split second before he pulls back.

“Not that you don’t--ah, careful, teeth--have some appeal of your own,” Harry continues on, apparently satisfied with running his mouth while Scott’s is otherwise occupied. “Filled out that uniform of yours nicely. Yeah, just like that, honey,  _ just _ like that. And you’ve got a cute little butt, you know that?”

“You’re welcome to see it again,” Scott mumbles, drool slicking the slide of his fist as he concentrates on sucking at the sensitive tip. “Anytime. Just ask and I’ll bend over for you.”

Harry groans, leaning forward, hands unclenching from his hair to pat almost frantically at his head. Scott grins, sinking down and ignoring the warnings, before jolting when the first spurt of come hits his tongue. It’s always a shock at first but he recovers quickly, swallowing every last drop with languid movements, hand still working to milk out every last drop.

He’s half tempted to keep some on his tongue, pull back to show Harry, but he’s afraid--going by the frantic panting above his head--that something like that might actually kill the older man.

Instead, he sits back on his heels once Harry’s pats turn to gentle shoves, hand still rubbing against the bulge of his own cock as he watches Harry try to recover. It’s a gorgeous sight, the normally controlled doctor flushed and disheveled, slowly softening cock resting up against his stomach. Scott licks his lips, swallowing with an obnoxious sound, and looks up with what he hopes is a contained prideful grin.

“How’d I do?” His voice is breathier than he means it to be, but Scott blames that fully on the arousal still pounding through his veins with every movement of his own hand.

“Get up here,” Harry orders with a lazy wave of his hand, allowing Scott to scramble onto his lap, taking care not to rest his weight on his still exposed cock.

Skillful fingers, no less steady in the midst of what Scott hopes was a good orgasm, free his cock within moments, wrapping around him. Harry yanks him into a kiss, tongue licking deep like he’s trying to find any trace of his own come in Scott’s mouth as a calloused hand starts to work up and down his length.

It takes an embarrassingly short amount of time before he’s coming, groaning Harry’s name into his mouth, shaking apart as he makes a mess of Harry’s uniform. Scott buries his face in Harry’s throat as he’s worked through it, groaning when oversensitivity sets in, thankful for the way the hand disappears then.

“Oh my god,” he flushes, distinctly aware of what had happened in the aftermath. “I swear, I usually last longer. I’m not--I was really excited.”

Harry merely laughs, his clean hand coming up to urge Scott out of his hiding place and guide him into a gentler kiss. It feels right and Scott sinks into it with a happy sigh, linking his arms behind Harry’s head to keep him in close.

“This is still probably a mistake,” he warns when Scott tips their foreheads together, lungs burning for air.

“Maybe,” Scott wriggles, trying for enticing. “But what’s life without a few risks?”

“We really gotta get your head checked if you think that Alec beating  _ both  _ our asses is acceptable risk.”

Scott pulls away with a grimace, one that has Harry huffing out a laugh.

“And we need to get  _ your  _ head checked if you think post-coital is the best time to bring up my dad.”

“Oh, this isn’t post-coital.” Harry grins, sliding his hands around to squeeze Scott’s ass, making him yelp in surprise. “I’m not  _ that  _ old, Scott. One blowjob, no matter how good--stop smiling, you little shit--isn’t going to put me out for the night. I’ve got more than one shot in me.”

“Should we move this to my room then?” Scott asks, the grin from the unintended praise still stretching his mouth as Harry rolls his eyes and pulls him in for one last quick kiss.

“Let’s go to mine instead. Bigger bed. And it’s got a better lock.”

“Awww, a big bed for your old bones?”

“Shut up and get moving,  _ honey _ , if you intend to  _ see _ that bed anytime in the next century.”

**Author's Note:**

> Anyone else fall for the doc? I'm over on tumblr [HERE](https://momomomma2.tumblr.com) if you wanna chat with me about it!


End file.
